Want To Touch
by octoberland
Summary: "Want to touch…" said R, in that garbled kind of way Julie was beginning to find endearing. They're on the road and on the run but a pit stop in an abandoned house leads to a moment of intimacy and a revelation for both Julie and R.


**A/N: Well, this is my first official fanfic foray into another fandom. I'm not going to lie. I think R is sexy. And I am completely obsessed with the world Isaac Marion has created. So after reading the book I knew I wanted to write something like this. I wanted to see if I could do it in a way that wasn't creepy. Joke intended.**

**This is a little M rated snapshot that combines elements from the book and the movie. You'll see I borrowed certain turns of phrases and whatnot. I tried to be faithful to what Isaac created while also adding my own voice to it. If you decide to read this just bear in mind that it is a sex scene. But I tried to keep it tasteful and not graphic.**

**I do hope you enjoy. I did not have a beta for this but the lovely Diana Wolfskill did pre-read it for me. Please leave a review and let me know what you think. If people like this I do have an idea for a mirror one-shot.**

**All characters are the property of Isaac Marion. Hopefully he won't hate me for doing this.**

**Thanks for reading!**

"Want to touch…" said R, in that garbled kind of way Julie was beginning to find endearing.

They were shacked up in an abandoned house, on the run from the Boneys and headed into the city. She could see he was changing. It was clear as day to her. He hadn't _eaten _since they'd met. His eyes were the color of metal, not clouded over like the other Dead, and when she looked into them she swore she could see something, something more than nothing, something more than death.

He was looking at her now, intensely. It frightened her. But not in the way it should have. It raised gooseflesh on her skin and made her heart speed up. He was looking at her the way Perry used to; all want and love and puppy dog eyes.

'Wh…what?" she stammered.

"I…want…to…touch," he said, each word strung out with great effort. To prove his point he reached a hand out tentatively and laid it on her chest above her heart.

He could feel it beating beneath her ribcage, drumming out a frantic tattoo. Once upon a time this would have driven him to a different hunger, one that ended in blood and tears and walking corpses. But this new _new_ hunger settled in a different place in his body and deeper places yet in his soul.

She nodded, not quite sure what she was agreeing to.

He let his hand linger there a moment, just taking in the feel of her chest rising and falling as she breathed. It would take every ounce of concentration he had not to stumble and make a fool of himself.

Slowly, and not at all surely, he let his hand drift. He slid the backs of his fingers along her dimpled skin, thankful for the darkness. He did not want her to see him as a monster in this moment, covered in grime and gore and rotten flesh, but rather as a man, full of potential, and capable of love and warmth.

His hand drifted, seemingly directionless, between the cleft of her breasts. She was wearing a damp polka dotted bra. His fingers promptly snagged it, unintentionally, awkwardly, clumsily. He froze.

Julie giggled.

"It's okay," she said, her voice light with humor. Then, hesitantly, as though approaching a frightened beast, she undid the clasp that rested between his fingertips.

"It's okay," she said again, more quietly, more like a whisper.

For a moment his eyes widened in that comical, exaggerated way he had about him but then he collected himself, regained composure, and continued his explorations.

He slid his hand to the left, under the rain damp fabric of her bra, brushing across her breast.

Julie breathed in sharply and closed her eyes.

He might have wondered if he'd hurt her but his brain was too busy coming alive. Synapses were firing; memories were flooding in, one after the other, a slideshow of passion and first touches: Perry kissing her in the rain, the taste of alcohol on her tongue, sharp and sweet; Perry making love to her, fumbling in the dark, her wide smile as they ran home under cover of night, hand in hand.

R wanted these things for himself. He wanted to tell her he loved her. He wanted to crawl inside her, to feel her from the inside, he wanted to steal the tastes upon her tongue and make her smile wide smiles.

Overcome by these needs he rolled atop her in an effort to be closer.

"Whoa…R, what are you doing?" she asked as she placed her hands on his chest.

"Sorry," he replied sheepishly and rolled off her. He was sure that was it, that that was all he'd get. She'd come to her senses and realize she'd almost fornicated with a corpse.

She turned to face him, propping herself up on her elbow.

"It's okay," she said again, her apparent mantra for the evening. Then she got a mischievous look in her eyes.

Before he could register what she was doing she hooked a finger into the waistband of his pants and lifted it away from his skin. "Does it work?" she giggled, as she peered down his pants.

"N…no," he said, ashamed.

"Then what was it you wanted to do?"

"Want to touch," he said. He looked at her, hopeful.

She thought for a moment then climbed on top of him, straddling him. She was nervous. It had been such a long time since she'd touched anyone, since anyone touched her. Things between her and Perry…they'd been failing. Ever since his father died…well, things just hadn't been the same.

But this? This was ridiculous. R wasn't even human. Yet there was something about him, something different. He wasn't like the others. He made her laugh. He liked music. What kind of zombie likes music? And she saw the way he looked at her. He'd told her he'd keep her safe and the truth was she _did_ feel safe with him.

_What the hell_…she thought.

"Sit up," she instructed while tugging on his shirt.

R looked confused and shook his head no. Julie sighed, frustrated.

"Your shirt's gross. I'm not gonna fool around with you while you have this thing on," she insisted. She gave the shirt another tug for emphasis.

His brief excitement at her desire to fool around was quickly quashed by his fear of her seeing him naked. It was dark in the room but there was still a faint light, just enough light, seeping in from the lamp in the living room to show her what he truly was if she really looked: nothing more than a walking talking rotting dead thing pretending to be alive.

"I've seen naked guys before," she tried to joke. "It's not like you're my first."

"Not…like me," said R.

"C'mon. You started this. I'm sitting here freezing my ass off in my underwear. It's only fair."

She was right, he knew. He braced himself for the worst, sat upright, and waited for the inevitable. She pulled and tugged till the shirt came free.

"Jesus, R…" he heard her whisper. He hadn't even realized he'd closed his eyes, like someone anticipating a particularly painful blow. He didn't open them. He just waited.

He felt her fingertips probing gently along his skin, tiny, warm, and unafraid. "What happened?" she asked. Her fingers traced circles around his wounds; bullets, bites, cuts, scrapes. He had them all.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Life happened."

He thought maybe that was a witty answer. Maybe she'd laugh or slap him or both. Instead she threw her arms around him and held him tight, her breath hot on his neck. He sat there dumbly, not knowing what to do, his hands lying at his sides.

_Was she crying? _He thought he heard her sniffle.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

_Why was she apologizing? _

She pulled back and looked him squarely in the eyes. "How many times?" she asked as though she were suddenly realizing something. He opened his mouth to answer but she kept going. "How many times did you almost die? I mean, like, really die? How many times _should_ you have died?"

He tried again to answer but again she cut him off.

"Don't you get it? You're supposed to be here. We're supposed to be here. I don't know why but I just…I know it. God, I wish I could kiss you!" she laughed.

He got it. He'd been feeling it for days. He just didn't know how to say it. They'd started something, something irreversible, and they needed to finish it.

He wrapped his arms around her, one hand at the small of her back so that their bodies became flush. The air between them changed. It became thick, charged, all laughter gone. He wanted very, very badly to kiss her.

"R…" she said. Her lips and voice trembled when she spoke. Their mouths were mere inches apart.

He almost growled he was so suddenly overcome with need.

"Want to touch," he said again. This time it was firm. No hesitation, no fear.

She nodded infinitesimally, her breath quickening.

He kept one arm around her waist, holding her in place. His other hand, the one that'd been on her neck, trailed a path down her cool skin till it came to rest between them.

Cupping her gently he paused for just a moment then slowly, deliberately, as deftly as he could, he began to move his fingers. The irony didn't escape him. He was death incarnate; cold, lifeless hands caressing a place meant to give life.

She moaned and wrapped her arms around him. She began to move with him, guiding him, and instinctively he knew it was better to let her control this.

Julie leaned her weight on him. She gave in to him. She was safe.

She rocked back and forth, placed her hand over his, and moved their fingers in time with each other. She didn't feel cold anymore. She wanted him. She wanted to be with him. There was just a stupid piece of plaid cotton in the way but she knew they couldn't do that. Not yet anyway.

R's brain was firing again but there was no Perry this time. It was just R and Julie. In his mind he was inside her, making love to her while the sun shone down on them. Green fields somewhere, maybe flowers, maybe a glint of metal in the distance, but nothing dangerous, nothing to distract them. Their breath mingled; the air around them warm, like Julie…

He could feel her heat, could feel that she was ready, and could feel this new hunger consuming her, setting her on fire and it was beautiful.

Her body shook once…twice…stiffened; then she cried out softly, clutching R tightly as she did so.

He held her, kissed her neck. He wanted to tell her that she was his living thread, wrapped around his heart, binding him to her, making him come alive again but he figured she knew all that already, at least on some level. So instead he held her. He kissed her neck. And when her breathing slowed, when her body calmed, he laid her down on the bed and wrapped the quilt around her.

R let out a warm contented breath and slept.


End file.
